Hold on to me
by Arweyn
Summary: Five times Stiles took care of Derek and one time Derek repaid the favour. Old upload, set around season two. Bromance. Derek H/C, awesome witty Stiles.
1. Siphonaptera

_A/N: - so basically I know my version of Derek can be OOC sometimes; but that is the way I like to write him. To me he is this tough-werewolf-guy who has a little heart and a soft spot for Stiles. I know, most writers write him as being grumpy and distant, but I prefer to write him like this.  
\- also, I know they end up a lot in bed :| Not in a sexual way, but I mean, it is Stiles taking care of Derek and I just liked the thought of Derek sleeping it off and Stiles surfing on the interwebz, secretly taking pictures of Derek drooling all over the place.  
\- The story is also somewhere set around the Kanima events; mainly because that is when I started writing this fic. I have already seen the rest of course, because, like always, I let stuff like this linger around and finally had the time to finish it all. So, if there are things that didn't happen in season 2 it is because I was influenced by season 3._

 _2017: wow I finally managed to upload this one. It was actually finished a while ago but I guess I forgot about it. Anyway, season 6b is going to start soon. I can't believe it will soon be over. Man, I love this series and I miss Derek._ **  
**

 **V - Siphonaptera**

'Fleas.'

'Yes, Stiles, fleas.'

The teenage boy stared incredulous at the older man. Both of his eyebrows were raised, and despite all the effort, he couldn't keep the sly grin off his face.  
Derek Hale, in his early twenties, Alpha of a pack of werewolves–thanks very much- was glaring at him, his eyes flashing red for a split second. He couldn't find the humour in this whole situation. In fact, this was highly unpleasant and embarrassing. He snarled and smiled inwardly when he saw the hyperactive teenager's smile falter.

'So…fleas…What do you want me to do? Isn't Scott a better person to deal with all of this?' Stiles motioned at Derek, who scratched irritably behind his ear. He looked so much like a dog, Stiles wanted to laugh again.  
'How did you even get them in the first place?'

The question was meant sincere and Stiles would never have expected the wolf's reaction. Derek turned a deep shade of red, and found his nails –which were elongated at the moment- suddenly very interesting.

Stiles' eyebrows rose even more.  
'Do I actually want to know? Dude. Is it contagious?' he asked and took a step back, his hands in front of him, trying to ward off any of the little critters that decided Derek wasn't so attractive any more.

Derek glared at him.  
'Of course not, they are only contagious to other werewolves. That's why I couldn't ask Scott. I would just pass them on.'

Stiles crossed his arms in front of his chest, still not convinced.  
'And what do you need me to do?'

'I need you to take me to Deaton. He knows the cure.' Derek sighed and glared at Stiles when the younger man raised his eyebrows again.

'Wait…you are willing to go to Deaton? Wow! I didn't think I'd live to see the day that Derek Hale needs help! From a vet!'

There was a low and threatening growl coming from the wolf and Stiles let out an involuntarily yelp.

'Jeez, dude…Hold your horses. Fine!' Stiles sighed exasperated and threw his hands in the air. He turned around and walked towards his blue Jeep. He pulled the keys from his pocket and opened his precious 'baby'.  
'Just make sure that you keep your vermin to yourself…I don't want those little critters residing in my car.'

Derek huffed and scratched at his arm whilst getting in. Everywhere on his arms where red splotches and raw skin. It looked rather painful.

'And for the record, I don't think it's very healthy what you are doing now.' Stiles said and gave a pointed look at the ugly scratch marks on Derek's arms. He started the car and pulled out the parking lot of the library, where Derek had 'jumped' him.  
Come to think of it. Derek was like a flea himself…

Just like fleas, his company was unwanted and could be very, very annoying…

'It will heal.' Derek said and that was final.

The silence in the car was awkward to say the least, and while Stiles could have a conversation going on his own, he really didn't feel like breaking the silence.  
They would arrive at Beacon Hill's Veterinarian soon anyways. He just hoped that Dr. Deaton would be able to help. He really didn't feel like staying around Derek 'Flea' Hale.

'Who sleeps with the dogs, gets the fleas.' Stiles thought to his self. 

He parked the car at the Vet's clinic and got out, frowning when Derek didn't.  
The wolf stared at the door with wide eyes, filled with uncertainty and…fear?  
'Hey, Derek. It's okay! Most dogs are scared of the vet anyways.' Stiles said with a smirk and got in when he heard the wolf growl menacingly. He would regret this but not right now.

Deaton was standing behind the little wooden barrier of Mountain Ash, leafing through some papers. He didn't look up when Stiles entered.  
'Greetings Stiles.'

'Hello doc.' Stiles greeted, long used to the weirdness of the doc.

'How can I help you?'

Stiles leant casually on the counter, unable to keep a smirk off his face.  
'Well doc, I have a particular sick puppy with a very annoying skin condition.'

Deaton raised his eyebrows.  
'Something happened to Scott?'

'No, not at all. Scott's fine. Most likely hanging around with Allison. No the sick puppy in this case is no one else but Derek Hale.'

Deaton looked resigned.  
'Do I want to know?'

'Ah, yes, doc. He asked me to bring him to you. I guess he's giving himself a mental speech right now.'

At the same moment the door opened and a very ticked off Derek Hale got in. He shot a furious glare at Stiles, who raised his hands.

'What seems to be the problem, Derek?' Deaton asked, eying the red marks all over Derek's bare arms and neck.

'Fleas…' Stiles said before Derek could answer, and pointedly ignored another glare.

'I see…' Deaton opened the little gate and let both men in. He lead them towards the clinic so he could take a look at Derek's little 'problem'.

'Take off your shirt please.' Deaton ordered and turned around to put on some gloves.

Derek sighed and peeled off his shirt.

Stiles frowned as he saw the wedge-shaped markings and crusts all over Derek's torso and back.  
The doc, who had turned back around in order to examine Derek, mirrored his reaction. He leant over and examined a particular nasty looking scratch.

'Derek, are you familiar with the term Flea Allergy Dermatitis? Or FAD for short?'

Derek looked quite lost.

'See, the skin is the major barrier between the internal environment of the body and the external environment's hazard. The epidermal layer is 'disposable', in the sense that its very rapid production of new cells can make up significant loss to abrasion, injury, scratch marks, you name it…Now, the skin is a target for exoparasites like fleas. They can easily pierce the thin epidermal layer with their blood-sucking apparatus to get blood.'

Derek nodded.

'Like in your case, if hypersensitivity develops, the tissue damage associated with inflammation may become too great even for the skin to repair and opportunistic infections with common bacteria can gain foothold. So flea allergy dermatitis begins with flea saliva, which contains antigenic materials like amino acids, aromatic compounds, polypeptides and phosphorus. Dogs-' Derek glared at Deaton, who just continued, '- present with severe scratching, biting and licking.'

'What has that got to do with me?'

'You have FAD, Flea Allergy Dermatitis and this causes you to get papules, crusts and wedge-shaped patterns over your body.'

'How can we cure it?'

'First of all we need to get the infections under control, which can be done by not scratching any more.' He swatted at Derek's hand that was unconsciously picking at a scratch mark. Stiles smiled in delight.

'Then I can give you a topical treatment. Best is to take a bath and use a lot of soap. I can give you an ointment for the scratches. I know they will heal but we need to get this under control before you cause an outbreak. You also need to thoroughly wash your clothes.'

'Yeah, I will go back to the railway depot and get cleaned up.' 

'Have you already been there this week?'

'No? I have been in the woods.'

'Then it's best to stay away before you contaminate the area.'

'How do I get fresh clothes? Where am I supposed to wash myself?' Derek asked, getting a bit annoyed.

Deaton looked at Stiles who was busy playing with a microscope. Derek followed the gaze and frowned angry. 

'Him?' Derek exclaimed.

Stiles looked up at all the ruckus and frowned when he saw Deaton smiling at him and Derek looking royally pissed off.  
'Did I miss something?' he asked.

'Derek needs a place where he can wash up and get some fresh clothes. Also, I can't risk letting him go back to his pack. He might infect them all. Besides he needs some help putting the ointment on his back.'

Stiles crossed his arms in front of his chest, about to make a remark but one look from the doc and he knew he didn't really have an option.

'Ugh, fine…Just don't get the fleas all over my house.'

'They won't. These fleas are only attracted to certain creatures like dogs and werewolves.'

Derek put his shirt back on and rubbed a hand through his hair, accepting the topical medicine Deaton gave him. Deaton went up to Stiles to give him instructions, concerning the eradication of the fleas.

'Thanks, I guess.' He said as they moved outside.

'My pleasure.' Deaton said and nodded, returning back into the examination room, leaving the two men standing in the waiting area.

Stiles glared at Derek, who was looking like a lost puppy.  
'So I guess we'll go then.' Stiles muttered and walked out. Derek followed suit, looking deflated.

When they arrived at home Stilinski, Stiles was grateful that his dad was at the station. It would be awkward enough already. No need to involve his father in…all of this…  
Both of them got upstairs, Stiles steering Derek towards the bathroom.

'Now Deaton said that you first needed to lather your body before you turn on the tap. Water scares the fleas away or something.' Stiles muttered, handing him his favourite shower gel. It was the last bottle but there was nothing else available at the moment. He really needed to go to the store to run some errands.

Derek merely looked at him with his impassive glare.

'And I need your clothes too. You can borrow some of mine.'

'Stiles none of your clothes fit.' Derek growled and shrugged out of his leather jacket with resignation.

'I can give you some clothes of my dad. Just…just get on with it okay? I'll be waiting outside. Call me if you need anything.' Stiles said and dropped a fluffy towel on the closed toilet seat. He went outside, holding the leather jacket as if it was contaminated. Well it was, somehow.

He went down to grab a plastic bag. There was no way he could wash the leather jacket without ruining it and get Derek's wrath over him. When he got back upstairs he saw Derek's clothes lying in a heap in front of the closed bathroom door. Stiles picked them up and put them in the washing machine, using excessive washing powder.  
'Let's kill these little monsters.' He muttered.

He retreated back into his room, hearing the shower run. He sat down behind his desk and opened his laptop when he heard a muttered curse. He looked up and frowned.

'Stiles?'

Stiles could hear the resigned tone in Derek's voice. Oh lord. Stiles got up and headed towards the bathroom.

'Are you okay, Derek?' he asked and knocked on the door.

'I…' there was a weary sigh and a snarl.  
'I can't reach my back.'

 _Oh. Well damn…_

Stiles pressed his forehead against the door.

'Just cover up and then I come in and help you out. Okay?'

There was a silence and another sigh.

'Yeah sure…I'm ready.'  
Stiles opened the door and saw Derek still standing in the shower but with a towel wrapped around his waist. Small rivulets of water trickled down his back and pooled at the edge of the towel.

 _Well, this was awkward._

If Derek found the whole situation awkward too, he didn't let Stiles notice it. The teenager grabbed a washing cloth and put shampoo on it. He vigorously lathered Derek's muscled back, solely focusing on the task. Sure, Derek was a handsome guy, but no. He was not into him, at all. He'd rather be any place else but here.

When he was done, he patted Derek's shoulder and headed out, hands still covered in soap but not able to stay in the bathroom any longer. So he cleaned his hands in the sink downstairs.

'Okay, so Deaton said I should cover the worst patches with ointment and cover them up in a thin piece of gauze. And then give him these pills.' Stiles sighed, grabbing the small bag on the kitchen table where he had dropped it before they headed upstairs. He took a glass and filled it with water.

He went back upstairs. _Great work-out_ , he thought and put the glass of water on the nightstand next to his bed. He went over to his father's bedroom and pulled some drawers of the cupboard open, searching for a shirt, pants and underwear.

He found a standard black shirt and an old pair of sweatpants his dad never wore. It would have to do. He placed the stack of clothes in front of the bathroom door and knocked on it.

'Derek, there's fresh clothes outside.'

There was a hum and the tap closed off. Stiles went back to his room and stayed there until Derek came in, his hair damp. The alpha werewolf sat down on the bed, rubbing his face wearily. As small as the problem seemed to be, it appeared to tire him.

'Doctor Deaton said that I needed to put some of this ointment on the worst scratches. But first you have to take these pills. They should help with the itching.'

'Should help?' Derek said with suspicion clear in his voice as he took the glass of water, offered by Stiles.

'Yeah, well you know the tales about placebo's and things, just to get the money going.'  
'Stiles.'

'I get it. Just take the damn pills. They will make you drowsy for the next three hours or so.'

Derek immediately lowered the glass.  
'I don't need them.'

'Yes. You .Do.' Stiles growled, emphasizing every word. 'Unless you want to keep scratching until you get an infection and Deaton will have to chop off your arm, just like the time when you were shot by a wolfs bane-bullet. That wasn't so nice, was it?' Stiles reasoned and glared at the sourwolf.

Derek bared his teeth but took the pills anyways. He emptied the glass and set it down on the little nightstand.

'Take off your shirt, please.' Stiles said and opened the container filled with ointment. Derek looked at him strangely.

'Look dude, I asked nicely. Just take it off, I need to tend to your scratches.'

Derek groaned and took it off, clearly exasperated with all of this.

'Can't I just go? I mean, I am cleansed now.' He muttered and put the shirt on his lap. 

'No, not until I tended to the wounds and you've had a good night's rest.'

Derek snorted and winced when Stiles applied some ointment on a nasty looking scab. Derek's whole back was a mass of scratches and patches and Stiles had a feeling he would run out of ointment before he managed to slather the white gloop everywhere.

'How did you even get to these parts of your back?' he asked.

'I am very lean when I'm in wolf-form, and otherwise I use a tree or something like that.' Derek muttered, his chin resting on his chest, the medicine clearly working.

'Okay. Forgive me for asking.'

''S'okay.'

Stiles got up and got a clean towel from the bathroom.

'Here ya go, big lump, lie down on it.'

Derek complied and Stiles worked on the wolf's torso. By the time he was done, the older man was fast asleep, and softly snoring. Stiles looked at his handiwork and nodded approvingly. He pulled the shirt from Derek's grip and placed it at the foot's end.

He got up and went downstairs, washed his hands and turned on the television, dozing off after half an hour. When he woke up, Derek was gone and the window was slightly open. The clothes that had been in the washing machine were taken too.

When Stiles got back home from school the next day, he found a package on his bed, containing his father's washed clothes and a little piece of paper, with on it: _thank you._

Stiles smiled.


	2. Fatigatio

**VI - Fatigatio  
**

Derek sat on the makeshift bed in the train wagon where he currently resided. He pulled off his shoes and let himself fall backwards on the soft mattress. He sighed wearily. He hadn't been sleeping for over 96 hours. He had been hunting the Kanima for three days straight with Isaac and Scott but they had always ended up sidetracked or had their butts kicked. They had to cut the hunt short when the Kanima had broken Isaac's arm and had slashed Derek up pretty good.

It was true that werewolves could heal much faster than humans but it still took quite some energy. He would usually sleep an entire day if he had been hurt pretty bad. But he never got the time. He was completely depleted.

But then again, he hadn't been able to sleep well because of the constant nightmares, Scott's constant yapping and the rest of his pack whom kept nagging him about their worries and feelings about being a werewolf. True, he was their teacher but they surely couldn't expect him to be up and at 'em 24/7?

Ninety-six hours. It didn't seem much. He had been awake for a longer time. But with everything that had been going on, it just tore him down. The purple rings under his eyes became darker every day and his already fair skin had turned white, almost pallid.

He was about to drift off when suddenly someone ran into the railway depot. There was a hurried scuffle outside and then someone started banging on the door.  
'Derek, open up. We need your help!'

 _Erica_.

'Sod off, will ya. I am trying to sleep.' Derek grouched and flipped onto his stomach. He grabbed the blanket, covering every inch of his body with it. Damn, it was colder than usual…

'Derek, we don't have time for this! The Kanima has taken Boyd and Isaac. He…It is going to kill them…'

Derek growled and jumped up, wavering on his feet. Well, this was new. He ignored the ringing in his ears and threw the door open.  
'Where are they.' He hissed and followed Erica into the darkness.

Of course Stiles and Scott had joined them too. Derek was actually surprised to see Scott. As far as he could tell, the young werewolf had been very 'occupied' with Allison as of lately. But he was here now and hopefully it was in their advantage. He wasn't too happy to see Stiles on the scene, however. The teen was just a boy, way too vulnerable…But then again, they had been underestimating him. He was much stronger than he let on.

The Kanima was standing there, tail wagging eerily and its reptile skin shining brightly in the moonlight. Behind it, Isaac and Boyd were lying, crumpled on the floor. What worried Derek the most was the lethargic heartbeat of Isaac. The boy must be really hurt. This fuelled the wolf in Derek and his eyes glowed a vicious red. He ignored the tremors in his muscles and went for the kill.

Derek couldn't remember what happened during the fight but he sure as hell didn't recall ending up on the ground, leaning against a wall. It was deadly quiet and for a moment he feared the worst. He lethargically looked around, searching for signs of life and startled when something moved next to him. He flicked his gaze to whatever it was and his tired eyes landed on Stiles' face.

'Stiles?' he queried confused.

'Hey there Derek, you feeling better?'

Derek frowned and blinked profusely, trying to get rid of the haze that was clouding his brain.  
'You don't remember do you?' Stiles sighed and got up. Derek shook his head and mirrored Stiles' movements. Well, he tried. His legs became wobbly all of a sudden and he slid down the wall.

'Everything is spinning.' He muttered, eyes closing on their own accord.  
He must have blanked out –well he fell asleep most likely- but when he opened his eyes again, he saw Stiles crouching in front of him, worry in his eyes despite of the hatred he had against Derek.

A warm hand was on his shoulder and his eyes slowly flicked towards it. He frowned, entirely confused about what had happened. His hands were shaking and he was so, so tired.

'Hey bud, let's get you home, okay?' Stiles sighed again and offered a hand. Derek looked at it but grabbed it anyways, knowing he wouldn't get up on his own. Stiles grunted and pulled the older man up, looping an arm around his shoulders. Derek's knees buckled but the werewolf quickly locked them, sagging against Stiles anyhow.

'Dude, you need to lay off the rabbits…' Stiles grunted, and hoisted Derek higher up. 

The lack of response worried Stiles.

He had seen that there was something wrong with Derek. The man seemed lethargic and unsteady on his feet. All the werewolves had looked at him, expecting a plan. Derek had seen it too, but he hadn't quite known what to do. You could say that his judgment was impaired somehow. As if he wasn't there.

The Kanima had attacked before Derek had a chance to pull himself together. He had shouted something and had seen Erica attack. Then he had moved forwards and had wavered a few paces before collapsing all together. Scott has yelled at Stiles, to get Derek out of here. They would take care of the Kanima. 

'Did I get hit?' Derek mumbled, interrupting Stiles' thought.

'No. Quite the contrary: you passed out.' Stiles offered and gently lowered Derek on the passenger seat of his car. Again, Derek's lack of response and lethargy were worrying him. He looked so exhausted. His eyes were bloodshot and they had lost their spark. His face was pale and sunken. It was so familiar. His mother had suffered from nightmares and had barely gotten any sleep. Derek was sleep deprived.

Even now, the man was blinking profusely, desperately trying to keep his eyes open.  
Stiles started the car and drove away.  
'Derek, how long have you been awake?'

Derek sighed deeply and rubbed his eyes. Nothing escaped the young teenager.  
'Ninety-six hours, give or take.'

He was half-heartedly expecting a lecture from Stiles about how he should get sleep and take better care of himself. But instead it remained quiet. Derek glanced at Stiles and saw the worried lines etched in his face. Something was bothering Stiles and he wanted to ask about it but he was so, so exhausted.

He must have fallen asleep, for when he woke, the car was parked in front of the railway station depot. Stiles smiled at him and exited the car.  
He opened the door for Derek and muttered: 'Let's get inside.'

The werewolf entered the old building and all but collapsed onto his bed. He sighed deeply. He was confused when suddenly his shoes were gone but then he remembered Stiles being there with him. Then the blanket was pulled over his body and the light went out.

'Good night, Derek.' Stiles called out and then shut the door.

Derek was long gone; finally getting the much needed sleep.


	3. Amicus

**III - Amicus**

'Hey Derek, if you can hear me: say nothing.' 

Silence

'Yeah, that's what I thought.'

Stiles carded a hand through his hair. It had become a nervous habit. 

The young teenage boy looked at the lanky frame of Derek Hale lying on the bed. The Alpha's eyes were closed and his forehead was creased. They were obvious signs of unease. Stiles knew Derek had to be in a tremendous amount of pain.

He had been poisoned with liquid wolfs bane via a tranquiliser gun. Isaac and Scott were still out there, trying to find the shooter whilst Stiles and Deaton had hauled Derek back to the Jeep and then to the Vet's clinic. With the help of Stiles and a whole lot of cursing they had managed to get Derek onto the examination table, where Deaton had begun preparing various herbs. He had injected another liquid, which would counteract wolfs bane. 

He then had tended to Derek's various cuts and bruises and hooked the werewolf up to a bag of intravenous saline. When that had been done he had gone out, leaving Stiles in the examination room sitting on the hard wooden chair.

That's where he was at the moment, waiting for Derek to wake up. His eyes slid over Derek's bruised and battered face. The healing process had yet to begin but it was as Deaton had told: the wolfs bane needed to get out of Derek's system first before the werewolf could start healing again.

'How's he doing?' The vet asked and nodded at Derek.

Stiles shrugged and got up, wringing his hands.  
'He hasn't moved yet and he isn't healing neither.'

Deaton nodded and moved over to the bed, pulling one of Derek's eyelids up and flickered with a little penlight. He sighed deeply and inspected a rather ugly laceration on Derek's forehead.  
'We'll just have to be patient.' He looked up and glanced at Stiles.

'Are you doing okay, Stiles?'

Stiles looked up and offered a strained smile before he sat back down.  
'Tired, I guess.'

'I can tell. But there is something else bothering you too.' Stiles could tell he was being assessed.

'Get up.' Deaton said and flicked a light on.

Stiles sighed deeply and got onto his feet and wrung his hands.

'Turn around.' Deaton said and walked up to Stiles. He grabbed Stiles shirt and was about to lift it up when Stiles turned around, hands up.

'Whoa, doc. Aren't you going to buy me dinner first?' Stiles commented, his voice somewhat high pitched. Deaton raised his hands and took a step back.  
'It's okay. Just lift up your shirt. I am not a fool, Stiles.'

Stiles looked at him and then it seemed as if he deflated. He nodded and looked at the ground. Deaton lifted Stiles shirt once more and sighed deeply as he saw the dark bruises covering the teenagers' back and sides.

'Didn't Derek tell you to stay out of the way?' Deaton asked and pulled the shirt all the way up.

Stiles' back was a horrible patchwork of bruises, red angry welts and dark red streaks.  
'What happened?' Deaton softly queried, putting a hand on Stiles' shoulder and turned the young man around so he could look him in the eye. 

'I got thrown into a wall once or twice...Also there was a mace involved somewhere too…' Stiles muttered and shuffled towards the chair, Deaton guiding him. 'It was in the midst of the fight. And, I know Derek told me to back off but that man, he…He was holding a gun…he was aiming for his head. I couldn't…I wouldn't…' Stiles stammered and clenched his fists. 

Deaton didn't say anything. There wasn't much to say anyway. They all knew it was becoming too dangerous for Stiles to be around them. Deaton had warned Derek about it. But the werewolf had simply grouched in his usual manner and had replied that Stiles could take care of himself.

He bent over Stiles' back and gently poked and prodded on some nasty looking bruises.  
'You are lucky, there is nothing broken. You bruised some ribs so you'll just be very sore.' He opened a pot of ointment and slathered a large amount of the salve on the young boy's bruised back. He made no comment as Stiles hissed or tried to move away as he prodded a particularly painful spot. 

When he was done applying the ointment he carefully wrapped Stiles' ribs. Then he pulled Stiles' shirt back down and squatted in front of the boy. 

'All done. Maybe you should go home and get some sleep. It is late and you are tired. I will let you know when Derek wakes up.' He smiled and patted Stiles' knee.

But Stiles shook his head.  
'No, I should stay here. I need to make sure…'he trailed off, but Deaton got the message.

'Alright, but it could take a while before he wakes up.' Deaton said and got up. Stiles kept his eyes focused on Derek as Deaton threw a fleece blanket over the pale man.  
Stiles blinked confused as a blanket was held in front of him.  
'Take it, it can get chilly in here.' Deaton explained.

He helped to get it around Stiles' shoulders for the young boy was already sore and stiff and could barely get his arms up.

Deaton could say what he want, but he knew Stiles would not leave before he was sure that Derek was all right. He could both drag him home and risk the fact that Stiles would escape somehow and only aggravate his injuries. Deaton patted Stiles' shoulder and told him that if he needed anything he'd just need to call out. Then he headed out.

Then the waiting began once more. 

Derek woke up with what had to be the worst headache ever. He lifted his right hand to massage his temples and found that there was something stuck to his hand. He carefully pried his eyes open and sighed when he found that the lights were out. So, there was an IV in his hand. Why would there be an IV in his hand? And why was he lying in Deaton's clinic? He could recognise the smell from anywhere. 

He also smelt something else. Someone else. He looked to the side and saw Stiles asleep, a bit too close for his comfort with his head resting on the examination table. In any other circumstance he would have pushed the kid away but Stiles looked downright exhausted and he just couldn't bring himself to wake him up so roughly. Not after what he had done for him.

Stiles had practically pushed the gunman onto the ground when Derek was at gunpoint.

He didn't see what had happened next because he had been too occupied with another man, brandishing some sort of mace. It had nearly taken his head off. He had managed to duck but at the same time he had felt the piercing sting of a needle in his neck, followed by the most awful burning sensation he had ever felt. It was when he fell paralysed to the ground that he had recognised the effects of wolfs bane.

Right before he had lost consciousness he had seen Stiles fighting off one of the men. Then it went all dark.

'It's nice to see you awake.' A voice whispered so silently, Derek new it was only for him to hear. He flicked his gaze towards the doorway and nodded at Deaton. The dark-skinned vet walked up to him and inspected the IV-line before casting a glance at the still sleeping Stiles. The teenage boy was unaware of everything, deep in throes of sleep. He was exhausted, both physically as mentally.

'How is he?' Derek whispered.

Deaton lifted the blanket on Stiles shoulder a bit higher, tucking him in as best as he could, without rousing the boy.  
Both vet and werewolf froze however as the teenager shifted and muttered: ' _Th'nks mom.'_

Deaton sighed deeply and smiled sadly at Derek.  
'He is exhausted and will be in more pain than he already is by the morning, judging by the way he is cramping up his back.' Deaton answered.

Derek's brow furrowed.  
'Did he get injured?'

'He bruised his back and some of his ribs. We will need to talk about his safety eventually, Derek. It can't go on like this. Now, how are you?'

Derek shifted carefully. He felt sore but a whole lot better than before.  
'Okay, I guess. Did you find an antidote?' 

Deaton nodded and checked underneath one of Derek's bandages, content as he saw that the healing process had finally kicked in.

'You will be as good as new in the morning. The wolfs bane should leave no traces.' Deaton informed and fiddled a bit with the saline-bag.

'What's that for?' Derek asked and involuntarily flexed his hand.

'It's saline, to keep you hydrated, mostly.' Deaton answered and frowned.

'What's wrong?' Derek immediately asked, not liking that expression at all.

'We need to get Stiles in a reclining position. Can't you hear the wheezing?'

Derek then noticed the soft wheezing coming from Stiles.

'Is it his injuries?' 

'Yes, he is putting too much strain on his ribs by leaning over like this, making breathing more difficult. His condition will only deteriorate this way. He needs to lie down, in a proper bed and get some decent rest.' 

Derek nodded and carefully sat up, ignoring the slow spin of the world and motioned at his hand. 'Can I take it out? I will bring him home.' 

Deaton shook his head and gave Derek a stern look.  
'First of all, you need all of this, in order for the antidote to work properly. Second: Stiles' home is too far off for you to carry him and you can't really go anywhere hooked up to an IV-bag.' He held up his hand as Derek rolled his eyes and wanted to take the catheter out himself. 'Third, if you carry Stiles in this cold, it will only do worse than good. Besides, how are you going to get in? Through the window? The door? Mister Stilinski will have your hide, if he sees his son, beaten up, in your arms.'

Derek was about to say something but Deaton silenced him again.  
'So, I suggest you take the antechamber.'

Derek looked at him with a frown.

'Scott used to sleep here when he had a rough night. Or that time when his mother was out of town and he forgot the key to his house.' Deaton chuckled softly.

He helped Derek getting off the examination table and opened a door to a small chamber that held a small bed and a folding bed, neatly placed underneath the bed.

Deaton walked past Derek, who was sullenly holding onto the IV-pole, and unfolded the bed, placing it against the other bed, due to the small space.  
'Lie down,' Deaton said and motioned at the folding bed. He passed Derek a pillow and a blanket.

'What about Stiles?' Derek muttered as he made himself as comfortable as he could with the IV-line stuck to his hand.

'Don't worry about that.' Deaton said and went back out.

Derek strained his ears and heard Deaton waking Stiles up. He could hear Stiles asking confusedly where he was and then were Derek went, then Deaton's reply that Derek was alright and he would take him to see Derek. There was a soft yelp of pain, which made Derek want to get up, but he heard two sets of feet shuffling towards the small chamber.

Derek looked up and saw Deaton supporting a very pale looking Stiles. But when the teenager saw Derek, his face lit up and a broad smile spread across his face.

Derek couldn't help but smile back. He owed him that much at least.  
'Hey.' He greeted.

Stiles nodded and carefully lied down in the bed, whimpering as he turned onto his side. Deaton smiled and snapped a pair of gloves on and swiftly and painless removed the IV.  
Derek frowned and looked at the vet with suspicion.  
'But you said-...' 

Deaton grinned mischievously and shook his head.  
'I lied. Now sleep. Both of you. This isn't a slumber party. I am going home now. Stiles, you know where to find everything. I will send Scott to check up on you both.'

Stiles nodded sleepily and pressed his face into the pillow, eyes already drooping shut.

Deaton looked at Derek and pointed at Stiles, mouthing: _watch over him_.

Derek gave a curt nodded and sighed deeply as he got comfortable on the narrow bed.

-

To his surprise, he actually woke up rather late. It was already nine am and the sun's first rays were shining through the window, casting light on Stiles' sleeping face.

Derek looked at the teenager and thought about what the vet had said to him the night before. He was right. It was becoming more and more dangerous for Stiles to be around them. The boy had no supernatural powers or any fighting skills. 

Then again, neither could he cast him out. As hard as it was for him to admit, Stiles was part of his pack. The boy had been there for all of them, after all. He had been doing so much research and protected all of them in his own peculiar way.

'Do you always stare at sleeping people?' a sleepy voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

Stiles blinked owlishly at him, a grin on his face. He rubbed his eyes and proceeded to stretch his arms, when his back –painfully- reminded him that stretching wasn't such a good idea.

Derek looked at him with a small smile adorning his lips.  
'I guess I have to thank you for saving my life.'

Stiles opened his mouth and then closed it again with an audible click.  
'Ah well, I had nothing else to do on my Friday evening. I mean, nothing beats having a fight. Who goes to the movies anyways on a Friday? I mean, movies nowadays suck anyways.' He said with a wry smile.

Derek shook his head.  
'Quit your yapping. I meant it, Stiles.' 

Stiles picked at a loose thread on his blanket. Derek sat upright and reached over to the teenager, lifting up Stiles' chin.  
'I mean, not only did we fight together, we also had a slumber party!' Derek grinned and motioned around him.

'Every time you get hurt, it ends up in a slumber-party.' Stiles quipped but he smiled broadly. 

Derek stood up and rubbed his arm. 'We need to talk about this, Stiles.'

Stiles looked up with a frown on his face.  
'What is there to talk about? Everything is fine, right? No one got hurt.'

Derek closed his eyes in exasperation.  
'Except this time, someone did. Stiles, you...you are...' Derek trailed off.

'What, Derek. I am what? Bait? Not strong enough to hang out with you guys? Sorry that I am not a werewolf and that I can't claw someone's face off! But I am not useless! I can learn to fight!' Stiles yelled.

'I know, Stiles. But that's not what I was going to say.' Derek argued and gave the boy a pointed glare. When he saw the hurt look on Stiles' face, he sighed deeply and sat down, back towards Stiles. 

He put his head in his hands. If they would be able to talk this all out, he would blame his emotions on the after-effects of wolfs bane. 

'I meant...you are my...friend.' Derek sighed.

He heard Stiles swallow.

'You are part of our pack, Stiles. It's just that it is becoming too dangerous, Stiles. I don't want to see you hurt. You were already injured this time and had the luck to walk away from it. What if next time you get shot? Or worse...bitten? I don't want you to suffer through all of that. I don't want to go to your dad and tell him you died. I would never forgive myself if something like that would happen!' Derek babbled.

It was quiet for a few seconds and then a warm hand clasped his shoulder. Derek looked up to see Stiles smiling at him, his eyes shining brightly. He didn't need to say anything. Derek knew what he meant. It was all right, he understood.

He returned the smile and stood up. 

'Let's find some food.' He said and helped Stiles get up. Stiles nodded and carefully got up, wincing as he did so.

'Hold on.' Derek said and clasped Stiles' hand with both of his. Black liquid spread through his veins as he slowly drained some of the pain Stiles was feeling.

When he let go, Stiles nodded and smiled.  
'Let's go get some food, before someone gets in and sees us together. They might start thinking weird things.' He joked and walked outside, with a spring in his steps.

Derek shook his head and laughed, following the boy out, feeling a whole lot better.


	4. Glacialis

**II - Glacialis**

Sneaker clad feet ran over the snowy and rocky pathway. The heavy thumping on the frozen ground matched equally laboured breathing. Stiles' feet flew down the hill, eyes trained on the frozen lake. He reached the riverside and skidded over the ice, just in time to grab the leather jacket that was about to sink to the bottom of the lake. With strength he didn't know he had, he pulled the young man out of the frigid water.

'Come on, come on.' He muttered, a steady mantra to keep him going. He heard the ice crack underneath his weight and he prayed to all gods above that it wouldn't give.  
When he safely reached the riverside he allowed himself to fall on his knees, white puffs of smoke coming from parted lips. Derek Hale's face was whiter than usual, frosting already forming in his hair.

'Derek, wake up, will ya?' Stiles said and nudged the man's shoulder. He was shivering, but not as hard as the wolf on the ground. 'Come on, dude, you are pretty enough as it is. No need for a beauty sleep.' He joked but it fell flat as there was no response.

'Derek?' Stiles whispered and panic flooded through his body. He put two fingers on Derek's neck, trying to find a pulse. It was there, albeit soft and thready, slowly fading.  
Stiles leant over, placing his ear over Derek's slightly parted lips.

He was completely silent, waiting for a breath which never came.

'No.' Terror was eating him alive. He felt again for a pulse. It wasn't there anymore.  
'No. I can't lose you too!' Stiles whispered, tears clouding his vision.

Memories flashed before his eyes, his mom lying on the hospital bed, face sallow and dark bruising underneath her empty eyes, staring lifeless at the ceiling, his father drinking himself in a stupor, a never ending stream of tears running over his face. The sheriff accusing his only son of being worthless. Scott getting bitten because of him. Lydia who nearly died because he wasn't clever enough, wasn't fast enough…

'No, you are not doing this to me, Derek.' He growled and entwined his hands, placing them on Derek's unmoving chest, pressing down thirty times, tears running down his cheeks. He pinched Derek's nose shut, tilted his head back and placed his warm, chapped lips, on cold, limp ones. He breathed two times.

His fingers went up to find a pulse again. Nothing. Again thirty compressions, two breaths. And repeat.

'Come on, you ass. Just take a breath will ya. I fucking hate you for ruining everything. But I still kept going. So, now it is your turn!' Stiles cried, emotions washing over him.

'You ruined everything for Scott and me. You fucking owe me an apology!' Stiles screamed and pounded his fist on Derek's chest, over and over again. He didn't care whether he broke ribs, whether he left bruises in his wake. He couldn't care less if Derek would wake up and rip his throat out with his teeth.  
He had to wake up.

Stiles' strength waned and his breath was shaky, uncontrolled. He placed his head on Derek's chest, crying, leaking warm, salty tears onto Derek's cold and damp shirt.  
'I need you. You are my friend…' Stiles whispered and closed his eyes, fingers clutching wet fabric, trying to hold onto the Alpha.

' _Please._ '

Stiles raised one last fist and brought it down with his last remaining strength. Then he remained as quiet as Derek. 

There was a shudder underneath Stiles' head and Derek started to retch. Water spilled from blue-tinged lips, painful coughs wrecking his body. Stiles looked up in shock but quickly recovered and placed Derek on his side, so it would be easier for the man to get rid of the water clogging his lungs.

Stiles rubbed soothing circles over Derek's back, whispering nonsense. Derek's brow was furrowed, pain lines etched all over his face. After a minute but what felt like hours to Stiles, the heaving stopped and Derek was left shivering.

'Derek? Open your eyes for me, please.' Stiles said, voice shaky but feeling a whole lot stronger than before. Derek still wasn't out of the woods however and he needed to get the Alpha someplace warm and safe. His Jeep was parked right on top of the hill, he just had to make Derek get up.

'Derek?' he asked again, placing a warm hand on Derek's cheek. 'Hey buddy, we need to get up.'

Derek's eyelids fluttered and slowly his eyes opened, albeit lethargically.  
The look in his eyes was of pure confusion; they wandered all over the area. From the snow covering the ground, to the frozen lake and the sleece on his sleeves. His eyes found Stiles' face last.

'Stiles?' he whispered, voice hoarse and filled with pain and exhaustion.

'Yeah buddy it's me. Look, I need you to get up. We have to leave now, unless you want to turn into Frosty the Snowman.' Stiles jibed, and pulled at Derek's arm.

The older man shakily propped himself up on his elbow and with a whole lot of help from Stiles, he managed to sit up. His head was swimming and the whole world was caught in a slow spin.

'Now…on your feet. I know you can do it.' Stiles encouraged, looping an arm around his shoulders, supporting most of Derek's weight. The man tried to oblige but really, everything was so fuzzy. His legs didn't want to cooperate and his knees refused to lock.

'Stiles…I-I can't…' he muttered, leaning his head against the side of Stiles' face.

'Yes, you can and you will. We have to…' The last sentence was whispered. It was getting colder by the second, and Derek's trembling was getting worse. Not to mention that the shivering was draining him from the strength he needed.

Slowly and very unsteady they made their way up the little slope. Derek's feet were often tripping over patches of ice and his lips had turned blue again. This time it wasn't from the lack of oxygen but from the cold.

Stiles could cry when he saw his precious blue Jeep shining in the moonlight.  
'A few steps more.' He whispered more to himself than to Derek.

Derek shuddered all of a sudden. Stiles frowned.  
'Derek?' he peaked at Derek's face which was almost hidden from his sight.

'Stiles…I…' the man muttered and then promptly passed out, having used all of his strength. Poor Stiles couldn't quite hold the large man up and crashed to the ground, painfully spraining his right ankle as he tried to catch himself.

'Shit.' He spat and checked the man over.

Derek was out cold. No, freezing. He was out freezing, Stiles bitterly thought.

The teenager got back up and grabbed Derek underneath his armpits, dragging him towards the car.

'From now on, I'll never ever forget my cellphone again.' Stiles whimpered, mentally chastising himself. He grabbed his keys and opened the backseat door, lifting, half dragging Derek in. He considered himself lucky that he always brought an old quilt along. He draped it over Derek, made sure he was still breathing, dashed over to the driver's seat and started the car. He cranked the heater up as high as he could and sped down the road, back home.

Once Derek was lying in his bed, after having to drag him upstairs with a sprained ankle, Stiles grabbed as much blankets as he could find and cranked the heating on. The guy was severely undercooled and needed some heating up. It was a shame they didn't have a fireplace. It'd be so much easier. Stiles peeled the wet clothing from Derek's icy body, ignoring the awkwardness and dropped the damp clothes on a heap next to the bed. He grabbed a pair of dry sweatpants and dressed Derek in it, with some difficulty.

Derek was still shivering profusely, his teeth audibly rattling and worrying Stiles a lot.  
Stiles opened his laptop and quickly tapped the word 'hypothermia' in the search bar.  
His eyes sped down the paragraphs.

' _Hypothermia is a medical emergency that occurs when the body loses heat faster than it can produce heat, causing a dangerously low body temperature. When body temperature passes below 35 degrees Celsius, the heart, nervous system and other organs can't function properly. Left untreated, hypothermia can eventually lead to complete failure of the heart and respiratory system and death_.'

Stiles eyes quickly shot to Derek, who was thankfully still breathing, before he focused back onto the webpage.

' _First-aid care:  
Move the person out of the cold_: check  
 _Remove wet clothing_ : check  
 _Cover the person with blankets_ : double check  
 _Monitor breathing_ ,'  
Stiles' eyes darted once more to Derek, satisfied with the shaky breathing pattern.

' _Provide warm beverages when the person is alert and able to swallow_ : not quite  
 _Share body heat_.'

'What?'

'Oh…Oh God…Derek's going to kill me…' Stiles flipped through one more site but it too said to share body heat. Apparently this was most effective.

So, Stiles did what he had to do, in order to save his friend from turning into an ice cube. No Stiles. This was not the time for jokes. The teenage boy stripped out of his jeans, sneakers and shirt and crawled next to Derek, clad in nothing but his underwear.

'Okay, here goes nothing.' Stiles muttered and slid next to the werewolf, wrapping his arms around Derek's frame. Damn, this guy really was cold. He manoeuvred Derek this way so that the man was lying on his side and Stiles held him, nuzzling his face in the Alpha's neck.

A maelstrom of thoughts spun through Stiles' head, all considering about how awkward this was and what was going to happen after all of this. Stiles checked Derek's breathing every ten minutes and finally fell asleep when Derek's body started to relax and his breathing evened out.

When Stiles woke up, Derek was still fast asleep. His lips were thankfully back their normal colour and the man seemed at ease. Stiles didn't feel like moving however and watched how snowflakes drizzled down the sky outside. One glance at his alarm clock told him it was 8 am. He was just grateful it was weekend. He stayed like that, holding Derek's body and was about to doze off again when Derek woke up with a start. He gasped for breath and nearly shot upright, wasn't it for the fact that his energy was drained by last night's ordeal.

'Take it easy, Derek. You are safe.' Stiles said and scooted over to the side, giving Derek some space. The man looked around, taking in everything and then it dawned on him.  
'I am…at your place, in your bed and…what the hell Stiles? Are you naked?' the man panicked and looked at Stiles' bare torso.

Stiles merely rolled his eyes and got out of the bed and pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a hoody.

'You know, for the guy who just had his ass saved, you surely aren't grateful.' He said bitterly and almost as cold as the water that had threatened to drown Derek.

Derek looked at him and seemed to mull this over. Then it all came back to him.  
'The Alpha! The lake! I was drowning, I…You got me out? How?'

Stiles sat back onto his bed and looked at Derek.  
'I got a call from Scott saying you were in trouble and that he was going after you but needed some back up. So I followed him towards the lake and then we saw you fighting the Alpha, but obviously losing. When the Alpha tossed you into the water, Scott ran down and went after him, leaving me with your water-logged butt.' Stiles said.

Derek narrowed his eyes, but they softened as they noticed Stiles' trembling hands.  
'You saved me.' He acquiesced.

'I…I almost didn't. You weren't breathing…' Stiles whispered and he looked away.  
'You know, I thought I had lost you. I gave up.'

A large hand grabbed his and two green eyes looked at him in earnest.

'Stiles, you saved my life. And this is not the first time you did so. I guess we should take more recognition in what you do for us.'

There was a silence where Stiles tried to hold back his tears.

'Thank you.'

And that did it, the dam broke and Stiles huddled in on himself, tears streaming down his face. He had almost lost one of his best friends, just like he had lost his mother, just like his father had lost almost ten years of his life. All the shit that had been going down with the werewolves, the Kanima, Gerard…It was just too much at the moment. And everything had seemed to settle down until the Alpha pack happened and Derek's almost death.

He started rocking back and forth, ashamed for his breakdown in front of the werewolf. Surely Derek would think lowly of him again, all respect he had gained would be lost again because he was crying like a little girl.

Then two strong arms wrapped around him and pulled him into a hug.  
'It's okay Stiles, I'm here. I'm okay.' Derek whispered and placed his chin on Stiles' head, staring at the wall intently, trying not to give in either. Stiles was the one who needed reassurance now.

He felt Stiles nod and the two of them sat like that until Stiles' eyes had already dried up and his breathing evened out. Derek carefully laid him back in bed, crawling next to him, needing Stiles' presence as much as the boy needed his at the moment. Tomorrow would be better.

.:.

'Dude, I really thought werewolves couldn't freeze, with the body heat and all.' Stiles said, two weeks after the events.  
The two of them were sitting on the couch, watching the new Star Trek movie. Stiles had found out that Derek actually was a closet-geek.

'Really, Stiles? Just because some author writes it, doesn't mean it's true.' Derek commented, his eyes never leaving the screen.

Stiles frowned.

'Are you talking about Twilight?'

'Aren't you?'

'No?'

There was a silence and a red blush crept over Derek's face.

'No way…did you watch Twilight?'

Suddenly Derek found his hands very interesting. Stiles couldn't contain his laughter and burst out into a hysterical laughing fit.

'Cora made me okay?' Derek said and glared at Stiles. The latter wiped a tear away and looked sincerely at Derek.

'It's okay, dude, me too.' Stiles said and patted Derek's arm.

'Let me guess: Lydia?'

Stiles nodded sadly but had a grin plastered on his face. This was their dirty little secret. And when Allison made Scott watch the entire saga the both of them couldn't help it but crack up. And poor Scott never knew why. 


	5. Aeger

**I – Aeger**

'Here is your soup.'

'Danks.'

'Don't mention it.' Stiles looked amused, to say the least, if the smug grin on his face was anything to go by.

'Id's not funny, Sdiles.'

'No, of course. Sorry. I thought werewolves couldn't get colds.' 

Derek glared at him from underneath the thick blanket. 

They were at Stiles' home. The sheriff was out of town for a week so the house was empty, safe for Stiles and an ill Derek Hale. Scott had dropped by earlier, bringing a coughing potion from Deaton. He would return soon. Stiles had sent him out to get some things, like tissues, juice, mints and movies.

'We do, jusd nod so ofden.' Derek said and sniffled miserably.

He carefully ate some of the soup Stiles had made. Not that he could taste much anyways. But it filled his stomach. Stiles sat next to Derek on the couch and turned on the television. He zapped through some channels and sighed deeply.

Then Scott came back in. He threw the bags on the kitchen table. Stiles got up and took the empty soup plate.  
'You want some more?' he asked.

Derek shook his head.  
'No, dabks.' He whispered and closed his eyes again.

Stiles looked at him and shook his head before he went to the kitchen and unpacked the groceries. When he headed back to the living room, armed with tissues, mints and juice for Derek and crisps and soda for him and Scott, Scott was lounging on one of the separate chairs. Stiles put everything down on the table next to the couch and sat back down.  
'What movie did you pick?' he asked Scott and threw a bag of crisps at his head, followed by the can of soda.

Scott caught it easily and answered: 'Inception.' He then pressed the play button.

'All right! Heard it was good movie.' Stiles said and opened his can of soda, shooting a glance at Derek.

The werewolf was dozing next to him, a soft snore coming from his lips.

...  
'Wait, how do we know if he was back home or if he was still sleeping?' Scott asked as he started at the credits rolling on the screen.

Stiles blinked. This movie was weird to say the least but it was a good movie.  
'I have no clue.' 

He glanced at the clock on the wall. It was nine pm and honestly he wasn't tired at all.  
'What else did you bring?' Stiles asked and got up, cracking his knees when he did so.

Scott handed him three more DVDs. There was Thor, Captain America and Transformers 3. Stiles smiled contentedly; he had succeeded in making Scott a geek. Just as he had Derek. He looked back at the werewolf and smiled fondly when he saw the man curled up on the couch, legs drawn up and huddled in the blanket. 

'Want to watch Thor?' Stiles asked and handed Scott the DVDs. Scott nodded and swiftly got out of his chair, changing Inception with Thor. Whilst Scott was occupying himself with the DVD-player, Stiles went over to check on Derek. He crouched next to the man, mindful of staying out of hitting-range, and gently placed a hand on Derek's forehead. He frowned a bit as he felt the heat emanating from Derek's brow.

'How is he doing?'Scott queried and looked over at Derek with a small pout. The alpha was usually never ill. But it was probably because of all the stress he had to deal with which caused his immunity system to be less sufficient.

'He has a fever.' Stiles answered and frowned at the congested breathing coming from Derek.

'It's probably just a cold and he has to sleep it off. Isaac used to have a cold too and he was better after sleeping it off.' Scott informed and sat back down on his chair.  
Stiles looked at Derek's flushed face.  
'I get that, but why can't he sleep it off in his loft? I mean, it is big enough and he has his own bed. Now he has to sleep on the couch.' He muttered.  
Scott gave him a long look, his eyes narrowed a bit.  
'You really have no clue, do you?' he then laughed, shaking his head.

Stiles glared at him.  
'About what, Scott? I don't know everything you guys are up to. Last time I checked I still don't have a Lycanthropy diploma! In fact, with all the stuff that has been going on lately, I am surprised I can keep up with everything even if it is just barely. So please, enlighten me, Scott!' Stiles growled.

He was surprised Derek hadn't woken up by his little outburst, but then again, the man was probably too far off already.

'Whoa take it easy, Stiles! I thought you knew.' He defended and raised his hands.  
'Thing is, Derek came here because it's more safe here than in the loft or anywhere else. We all feel more safe when we are here.' Scott told him and smiled broadly when he saw Stiles' suspicious face. 'And it is also more fun.'

'So basically, my home is the safe house?' 

Scott pondered on that for a few seconds, nodded and said: 'I guess it is, yes.'

Stiles shook his head and headed to the kitchen, still thinking about what Scott had said. Why was it that of all places, the wolves had decided that his place was safer? Why him of all people? He couldn't do anything! He was like Derek had said: skinny and defenceless.

Stiles shrugged and grabbed a cloth. He wetted it, still mulling over everything when he heard a congested cough come from the living room. He looked up and frowned. So, they didn't heal that fast at all.

When he entered the living room he saw Scott sitting next to Derek, a hand placed on the man's shoulder. Derek was blinking mulishly. Their eyes met and then he was out cold again.

Stiles placed the damp cloth on Derek's forehead, hoping he could alleviate some of the heat radiating from said man. He smiled contentedly when he saw the wrinkles on Derek's forehead slightly diminish.

'Let's watch that movie.' Stiles suggested and sat down on his seat. Scott pressed play.

-

'Good morning, sunshine.'

Derek peeled his eyes open to glare at whoever was poking his side. He growled when he saw Stiles' beaming smile at him.

'Whad 're you doinb, Sdilez.' He slurred, closing his eyes and snuggled into the warm blanket.

'Nu-uh, none of that now. You have slept long enough. You need to take some medication and at least finish this glass of juice. Then,' he raised a hand, silencing Derek effectively, 'you will get up and sleep in a proper bed. You are cramped up enough as it is.'

Derek opened one eye to peak at the young man in front of him.  
'What medicine?' He asked suspiciously.

Stiles grinned.  
'Consider it a special wolf cure for the wolf cold.' 

'Ids nod funny, Sdilez.' Derek sighed and slowly got up, ignoring the fuzziness in his head. He leant back heavily against the couch and blinked a couple of times, confused when a glass materialised in front of his face.

'Deaton said these would take some time to kick in. It's some kind of a herbal remedy since normal medication wouldn't work on you as it would on humans.' Stiles offered, handing Derek two brown capsules, filled with ground herbs.

Derek carefully took the two capsules from Stiles' hands and eyed them warily. He shrugged slightly and took the offered glass, downing the pills with 2 large gulps.  
He couldn't help but give a small glare when Stiles handed him the box of tissues.

Blowing his congested nose forcefully, he was happy his sinuses unclogged at least a little bit.  
'What time is it?' he asked and looked around, trying to find a clock.

'It's somewhere around two am. Scott just left.' Stiles informed and got up, bringing the empty glass back to the kitchen.

When he got back in the living room, Derek was looking gradually better. He still had a flush on his face and his hair was poking up in the strangest ways, but his eyes were less glassy.

'All right, let's get you upstairs.' Stiles encouraged, more to himself than to Derek. Derek shot him an odd look filled with confusion.

'You certainly don't think you can go back to your loft in this state, right?' Stiles asked and narrowed his eyes when he realised that it had been Derek's initial plan to go back home. 

'Well, you are not. Now hoist your heavy werewolf arse up and come with me. It is late and I want to go to bed.' Stiles mentioned and grabbed Derek's muscular arms.

The werewolf grouched something but got onto his feet and wobbled with Stiles towards the stairs.

Going up the stairs was, to say the least, a daunting experience. Derek had to clutch onto the banister, his equilibrium still not up par. Stiles had slung the other arm around his shoulders and was all but hoisting the werewolf up the stairs, holding onto the banister himself.

When they finally reached Stiles' room, both Derek and Stiles were equally drenched in sweat. Stiles manoeuvred Derek onto his own bed and was surprised to find that Derek struggled.

'Stiles, I am not sleeping in your bed. What about you?' the man asked, barely managing to stay onto his feet, but still refusing blissful sleep.

Stiles firmly deposited Derek onto the bed.  
'I have a bed. There.' Stiles explained and pointed at the foldout in the corner of the chamber. 

Derek narrowed his eyes and looked at Stiles.  
'What? Come on, Derek. Don't make such a fuss. I am tired, you are tired and we both have a bed. Now. Lie down and sleep.'

Stiles ordered and took off his shoes.

'I am going to the bathroom, and when I come back I want you to be asleep.' He jokingly threatened and grabbed some clothes from the cupboard.

Derek shook his head as the boy left the room and made himself comfortable on Stiles' large bed.

Part of him felt bad for taking up so many personal spaces, but if Stiles insisted, well then, there was no point in arguing.

He closed his eyes and quickly fell asleep.


	6. Terrore

**0 - Terrore**

Derek had seen many things. He had seen his family dying in a fire. He had seen his uncle murdering others. He had seen members of his pack getting hurt or killed. And although he couldn't say that he was getting used to it, he was better at coping with things like that. But if there was one thing he couldn't cope with, it was Stiles having a full-blown panic attack.

It had started out of nowhere. They were driving down the road in Stiles' beloved blue jeep when Derek smelled the sudden acrid taste of fear and discomfort. Derek frowned and looked around, trying to find out where the smell came from. He finally looked over at Stiles and felt his own discomfort growing.

The teenager was looking pale, so very pale and his hands were shaking.

'Stiles?' Derek queried worriedly and shifted in his seat so he could see Stiles better.

'I...I need to stop.' Stiles whispered, his voice tense and laced with panic.

Derek watched how the young man pulled up in an empty parking lot, tires screeching as they gripped onto the concrete.

'Stiles? What the hell is going on? Are you injured?' Derek asked and felt his own panic rise as he saw Stiles fumble for the door and nearly fall out of the car.

Thanking his werewolf speed, Derek was at the teenager's side in the blink of an eye.

'Stiles?' he asked concerned and sat down next to Stiles, and assessed him.

Stiles gaped at Derek with wide eyes, pupils fully dilated and filled with anxiety and panic. He weakly clawed at his chest and his mouth opened and closed, like a fish caught on dry land.

'Stiles...what are you...' Derek trailed off and noted that Stiles was having a seriously hard time breathing.

He was hyperventilating and sweat was trickling down his neck.

'Breathe, Stiles. ' Derek ordered and grabbed Stiles' flailing hands.

Silent tears were streaking down Stiles' pale face and his lips were taking on a blue hue.

Derek positioned in front of Stiles and grabbed the boy's face with both hands.  
'Look at me, Stiles.' Derek ordered and peered directly into the boy's eyes.

It would be useless to use his Alpha-skills on Stiles because the boy was no werewolf. What he needed to do right now was to stay calm. Underneath his hands he felt how Stiles was shaking. The teenager was losing control quick.

'Stiles.' Derek lowered his voice and wiped away a tear that trailed down Stiles' cheek.

Stiles grabbed the hands resting on his cheek, held them tightly and then finally peered up at Derek.

'Where does it hurt, Stiles?' Derek asked concerned, however his voice didn't give it away.

'C-chest...'Stiles wheezed, his eyes looked pleadingly at Derek, begging him to make it go away.

Derek closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. His veins started to blacken and for a moment he could feel pure agony and panic coursing through his veins. He gritted his teeth and took away as much pain as possible. When he opened his eyes again, Stiles' were closed. His head was lolling forwards and his hands had fallen in his lap.

'Stiles?' Derek asked and tilted Stiles' head.

'M'kay. T'red.' Stiles whispered, keeping his eyes closed.

Derek sighed as silent tears slid down Stiles' face and sat down next to the boy, pulling him to his chest.

'It's okay. You can let it all out.' He whispered and held Stiles' shaking frame as he cried soundlessly.


End file.
